Hikari Shuuta was a Painter
by moroitsubasa
Summary: Hikari found his paintings were more appealing when they could take a life of their own. :A take on how Dark and Krad came to be.:


A/N: It's been a long time since I've tried my hand at poetry. This entered my mind and I could not sleep until I typed it out. There is a very obvious poem this is modeled after. Also, this was begun about midnight, finished at one-fifteen a.m., and is completely un-beta-ed. In addition, this is Not Canon.I don't know how Dark and Krad came into existence, but this is my take on what _could_ have happened.

* * *

Three cent'ries past and two years later, Hikari Shuuta was a painter

Day and night he painted pieces his town's people could e'er adore

As each day passed, they each grew bolder, Hikari Shuuta still grew older

Yet inspiration never lacked, and his sharp wit did no one bore

And from his mind his art did pour

--

People came from valley wide, to be at our dear painter's side

People who our artist's skills and time had always dared implore

Some days all he'd paint were faces, some days he knew only places

And scenes and sometimes memories until his hands were very sore

Still he painted evermore

--

One foul day through torrid rain, a certain ill-willed notice came

Claiming Hikari's work would belong to Hikari Shuuta just one day more

And even though the police had came, and though they knew of the thief's aim

Thief Niwa came and took all of the art Shuuta had displayed before

Hikari trusted nevermore

--

Like mad he went back to his painting, recreating works Niwa was taking

But with each new copy he had made, it lacked the life it had before

Frustrated, he paced long while ranting, until exhausted he stood panting

Wondering why it wasn't working and of the gods he did implore

A book slid in beneath his door

--

As if possessed, Hikari studied, his work was lacking still yet something

And its absence made his art seem just as lifeless as before

In that book he found the answer, he'd only hoped he found it faster

Then all of his work would have been something truly worthy to adore

More than it e'er had before

--

Rumors came of paintings moving, and of paintings of such beauty

It was something that the world could never hope to be ignored

With each new face, he became happy, and his paintings seemed ne'er more lacking

Country-wide visitors came to ask what secrets Hikari possibly could have bore

He claimed there were none evermore

--

Then suddenly he stopped accepting to paint the things that he found not tempting

And only sought to bring forth better art than had been seen e'er before

For several months he painted nothing, 'til suddenly - and it was fright'ning -

He painted with more fervor than in all his years he'd done before

All behind that closed oak door

--

His style changed as did his mind, and out they came one at a time

For one year straight all of his works were blood and guts and death and gore

Then came a year of new creation, and everything had a sensation

Of love and maybe strong desire to be loved, to be adored

Guests came from across the shore

--

People came in windows peeking, hoping to glimpse an art worth seeking

But he claimed no eye would spy his work until the job was o'er

That month began the nightly shrieking, from all around the city weeping

Screams like a child being beaten, being shaken to her core

Shuuta painted beyond the door

--

Not long after came the sickness, and each new victim fell with quickness

And it evolved into a plague the town had seen never before

Hikari's house became suspicious, the only one not yet diminished

By weakness, coma, and sure death that followed quickly furthermore

But ne'er they trespassed to his door

--

He knew his art would life be taking, but ne'er did he consider quaking

Or plague that renewed when he brought a painting from beyond the door

One by one he sealed them all, he heard his art's depressing call

"Why must I be slaughtered for the sins my master ever bore?"

Hikari smiled nevermore

--

For half a year, his art was dead, and before long the news had spread

"Hikari's art is worthless now, it's not as good as 'twas before."

Confused, Shuuta held his head and pondered from atop his bed

"Shall I not begin my work infused with life just like before?"

He locked again that strong oak door.

--

For several months, he worked, he toiled, and so his mind would not be spoiled

He dared not view a face that'd taint his view of sweet perfection's core

His neighbors became ever worried, but Hikari never hurried

His masterpiece would be soon loved and through it he could be adored

This alone Shuuta had sworn

--

Late in June, his work he finished, it seemed his talent had not yet vanished

And a divided angel stared back at him like nothing he had made before

Rev'rently he raised his hand, and then following his command

The air rushed round from everywhere. Hikari spoke the ancient words

Praying like never before

--

Out of the brightness stepped two beings, each in likeness the other seeming

And Hikari backed away in fear until he bumped into his door

The two men watched him, never ceasing and Shuuta calmed, his fear dismissing

"I'll call you Dark and then you, Krad, until a name be found suiting you more."

They agreed within the door

--

That night came the bandit's warning; the masterpiece he'd soon be hording

At the twelfth chime that very night. It shook Hikari to the core

All that day he was preparing seals and spells to save his paintings

He'd lost to Niwa once and now he could fin'lly settle the score

He unlocked his closed oak door

--

Niwa came and time not wasting, while Dark and Krad their spirits lending,

Shuuta aimed to send the thief a curse in limbo to be sure

But suddenly it started fading, and Dark's presence was disappearing

He tried to stop the spell, but Krad too was lost within the roar

Shattering his precious door

--

When he awoke, Niwa was missing, and his painting was gray and creasing

From within his mind spoke out a voice he had not heard ever before

It whispered killing, revenge, hunting, needing, wanting, fighting, loving

And the words Hikari hated more than any words spoken before:

"You are mine, forevermore."


End file.
